


Trust

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: One Night at a Time [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24941146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n is trying to make things work, traveling with the Winchesters, but Dean's behavior takes a turn for the worst when Bobby dies.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I can’t ignore that she’s a damn Amazon. I can’t ignore that he didn’t put a condom on and got her pregnant. I start hyperventilating with my anger and pain. I have to walk out. Sam follows me. Not Dean.“Y/n, just wait a minute.”“Why am I here, Sam?! Why did-” I wipe at my eyes and take a shaking breath. “I can’t--I’m not--he went out and fucked that...that monster...without protection and I was stupid enough to think he used condoms with all the other women, that I was special and we trusted each other and he’s more stupid and I feel dirty and I need to find a fucking health clinic because I haven’t been tested since the last time I let him touch me and he’s probably given me something nasty that’s been lying dormant since Cicero and I can’t-”Sam wraps me in a hug and holds me tight. There’s something calming about the compression. “You are special. He does trust you. You heard him. It was a one-off mistake. She distracted him on purpose so that she could get what she wanted from him.”“Yeah, well, I don’t trust him."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, Lydia (Supernatural: Slice Girls)/Dean Winchester
Series: One Night at a Time [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647841
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Trust

**Story Warnings** : mentions of harm to reader, scars, poor self-esteem, angst, Dean being Dean (Slice Girls feels), **18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** , unprotected sex, oral (fem rec)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve never traveled with other hunters. I’ve rarely _hunted_ with other hunters, so suddenly spending all of my time with the Winchesters is different. It’s weird. I feel awkward and out of place and I kinda hate it. But they’re trying. They’re doing what they can to make me feel comfortable with them.

We hunt together, we hide from the Leviathans, and Dean and I don’t sleep together. Somehow, we’ve managed to keep things...friendly. He really does seem to like having me around. But then Bobby Singer takes a bullet. None of us take it well, but it hits Dean like a ton of bricks...and he starts pulling away. He starts obsessing over killing the leader of the Leviathans, Dick Roman, and drinking a lot. He disappears back in time...and then Sam finds a case. Four men murdered in a fortnight, hands and feet cut off, a symbol carved in their chest. Grown men thrown with enough force to put them through walls. Dean calls it a ‘goose-chase’.

We go to the morgue, the latest victim took a chunk out of the killer, the forensics specialist says the sample doesn’t match anything human.

“I’ll admit it could be in the general vicinity of the ballpark of our kind of thing,” Dean says as we walk out of the building.

Sam doesn’t look up from his phone, where he’s examining the picture he took of the symbol. “Yeah, uh, ‘didn’t match anything human’ usually seals the deal for me. I don’t know, I’ve never seen this symbol before.” Sam reaches out and stops Dean with a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop.”

“That’s a great idea. Actually, that’s a brilliant idea! Here’s my counter. You and Y/n do that, I’ll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals and see, uh, what kind of clues bubble to the surface,” Dean suggests as Sam nods.

“You’re going to a bar,” Sam accuses.

“Wow. If you wanna oversimplify it,” Dean says before walking away.

I watch him disappear into the Seattle drizzle and I’m reminded of the Roadhouse. I’m reminded of watching him flirt with Jo, strike out, and then disappear with whatever other piece of ass he could get. I look away and head for the car of the week, trying to push down the pain.

“Hey, Y/n,” Sam calls out.

“Just...let’s get some food and go research that symbol.”

“He’s just trying to deal with Bobby-”

I turn to Sam and shake my head. “I understand, Sam. Seriously...and I’d like to just figure this shit out and do the job and save the men, okay? Please.”

He nods and pulls open the door. We don’t talk about it any more, but he keeps looking at me over his laptop, thinks he’s being slick about the way he keeps looking at the clock. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

I want to leave. I want to hop on a bus back to my car and avoid the feeling in my chest. But _he_ wanted me here. He made sure to point out every time I’ve left in the past. I can’t leave now. I can’t leave.

But I can ignore him. I can ignore him coming in with his clothes and hair disheveled as Sam and I eat our breakfast the next morning, smelling of expensive perfume. I can ignore him telling Sam that the reason he looks so exhausted is that he’s getting too old for the night of fun he had. I can ignore him lamenting leaving Bobby’s flask at his ‘workout partner’s house.

I can’t ignore that she’s a damn Amazon. I can’t ignore that he didn’t put a condom on and got her pregnant. I start hyperventilating with my anger and pain. I have to walk out. Sam follows me. Not Dean. Not the one who’s supposed to feel something for me.

“Y/n, just wait a minute.”

“Why am I here, Sam?! Why did he come get me? Why did-” I wipe at my eyes and take a shaking breath. “I can’t--I’m not--he went out and fucked that...that _monster_...without protection and I was stupid enough to think he used condoms with all the other women, that I was special and we trusted each other and he’s _more_ stupid and I feel dirty and I need to find a fucking health clinic because I haven’t been tested since the last time I let him touch me and he’s probably given me something nasty that’s been lying dormant since Cicero and I can’t-”

Sam wraps me in a hug and holds me tight. There’s something calming about the compression. “You are special. He _does_ trust you. You heard him. It was a one-off mistake. She distracted him on purpose so that she could get what she wanted from him.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust _him_. I have to go find a health department,” I say, pushing on his chest to get him to let me go.

“Y/n...don’t-”

“I’m not leaving. I can’t leave,” I say. “I’ve got my phone. Let me know if Lydia shows up to kill him.” I walk away and Sam just watches me.

I do a walk-in and get swabbed and prodded. I sign up to have them call me with the results and then I start walking. I can’t go back yet. I can’t face Dean yet. This is why I kept leaving, because I don’t have any right to feel so fucking betrayed right now, but I do. I want to go back to how things used to be. I want to go back to seeing him once in a blue moon and dreaming about him in the nights between instead of this waking nightmare.

Dean texts me an address after I’ve been on my own all day. He says Sam’s phone was broken by an Amazon, Dean's daughter was the one who was sent to kill him, Sam took her out...meet them at the Amazon headquarters. Of course the monsters are gone by the time we get there...cleared out because nothing about this hunt could go right.

Dean seems surprised that I showed up at the address, more so when I climb into the backseat of the car. I put my headphones on and turn my music on full blast. I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen to whatever conversation they're going to have. I don't want to be here anymore...but I told them I wasn't going to leave. I'll stay until Dean realizes what I've been saying for years is true: he doesn't fucking like me and he doesn't want me around.

Until that point...I'm putting myself back in the corner of the bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's doing kinda better, right?" Sam mentions after a few days of me completely ignoring Dean. I shrug. "Seriously. He's flirting less and-"

"He's still drinking like he thinks the whiskey'll cleanse his soul," I say quietly. "And I don't want to talk about him."

"Okay. What's on _your_ mind then, Y/n?" he asks, taking a drink of his coffee. I shrug again and he sighs. "He's noticed the cold shoulder, you know. He knows you're mad at him."

"I'm not mad at him, Sam."

His eyebrows raise and he gives me the bitchface he usually reserves for Dean. "Oh really? You're not mad?"

"No. No, I'm not mad. I'm just waiting. See, Dean doesn't want to tell me to leave because that would require him telling me that I was right...that I was right every time I told him that he didn't like me, every time I told _myself_ he didn't like me. I'm just waiting for him to get to the breaking point where his desire to get rid of me supercedes his ego. It'll happen any day now."

Sam rolls his eyes and sets his mug down. "He doesn't want to get rid of you. He's just being self-destructive because he's hurt that Bobby's gone."

"I'll be sure to hit you with that 'I told you so' too when he tells me to leave, Sam." I connect my headphones to my phone and turn on music as I see Dean approach the table. My music is my refuge as I only talk to one of my companions and usually only when we're alone. Maybe it's a bit petty, the cold shoulder I'm giving Dean, but I can't not do it.

I didn't expect to be his girlfriend when I started traveling with them or anything stupid like that, but I also didn't think I'd have to deal with what he's been doing. I didn't expect to have to watch him charm his way into prettier women's pants while I watched from the other side of the bar. I didn't expect to be made to feel like nothing again.

"Ya know, I always assumed that stand up comics were exaggerating but, wow, women really do exceed at the Silent Treatment," Dean comments as we're walking into our motel for the night.

"Maybe if you would actually try to talk to _her_ instead of making snide comments to me, you could break the silence," Sam says.

It's definitely petty to start humming Elvis Presley's "Any Day Now" as I drop my bag next to the couch and head for the bathroom. "Any day now. When the clock strikes 'go', you'll call it off, to no one's surprise!" I sing the wrong lyrics as I close the door. Sam likes Elvis...he'll get my point.

They start talking in hushed tones in the room and I don't catch any of it until Dean shouts, "What do you want from me, man? I can't!"

"Then admit it and let her go," Sam shoots back.

"I'm not holdin' her hostage, Sam!"

"She hasn't left because you yelled at her for always leaving, Dean! Like it or not, you're the one keeping her here and you're the one making her feel like shit, so man up and fix it or tell her to fucking leave!"

I press my fingertips into my eyelids as Dean says, "I don't want her to go!"

"Then act like you want her to stay! Look, I have enough stress right now with the Devil on my shoulder, I can't deal with your drama. Get over yourself and fix it or send her packing! I'm gonna go get dinner."

The door slams and I know Sam has left us alone. Great. Way to force a confrontation, Sam. Dick. I take a deep breath and open the door, strolling right past Dean to sit on the couch. He runs the back of his neck, avoids looking at me...but he doesn't say a word. Guess Sam _didn't_ force a confrontation. Dean really can't decide whether he wants me gone. Wow.

I put my headphones in and kick back, drown out the awkwardness with a playlist of 90s rock. If Pearl Jam and Green Day don't drown him out, nothing will.

My playlist has moved on to Chop Suey! when Sam walks back in. He looks from me to Dean, then rolls his eyes dramatically. He obviously thought we’d have changed something while he was out. He tosses the bag of burritos on the table and takes a deep breath. I move to stand up and grab a burrito out of the bag but Sam grabs my headphones and pulls them out of my phone as ‘Killing in the Name’ starts playing.

“Really?! You’re lying there raging against the machine instead of _talking_ to him?” Sam snaps.

I look to Dean and then up at Sam. “It’s not my job to talk to him. It’s not my place. He wants to talk to me, I’m right here.”

“Oh, don’t put this on me, sweetheart,” Dean snaps. I turn to him and raise my eyebrows. “You won’t tell me your issue. Is it ‘cause I haven’t fucked you since you’ve been with us?”

My eyes narrow and I try to literally swallow my anger. I take a deep breath and shake my head, reaching over and grabbing a burrito. “Sam, do me a favor and keep your nose out of my business. Because if you keep butting in, I’m gonna say something we’re _all_ gonna regret.”

“Like what?” Dean demands.

“Y/n,” Sam starts.

“Like I might be scarred and ugly but I would rather die than get back in bed with Dean’s _monster_ -fucker ass.”

“Oh, this is about Lydia?! That’s why you’ve been being a bitch?” Dean practically growls at me. I roll my eyes and rip open the wrapper. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

I take a deep breath and turn my head to look at Dean. “Why am I here? You don’t need a third hunter. You don’t need me. Why am I here if you’re going to treat me like this?”

“Treat you like what?” he snaps, standing up and looking down at me. “Like a smart, capable hunter? Like goddamn asset?”

I really think I hate him right now. “Wow. An ‘asset’. I’m an asset.” I take an angry, shaking breath. “Tell me to leave, Dean. Tell me that I was right and tell me to leave.”

He shakes his head. “You weren’t right!”

“Why is it so hard for you to admit that you don’t really want me here?!” I explode.

“Because I _do_! If I wanted you to go, I’d say it!”

“You’ve barely even looked at me since Bobby died, Dean!” I set the burrito on the table and turn back to him. “You’ll spend all night chatting up some bitch you’re never gonna see again, but god forbid you look my way. ‘Cause I’m just an asset, right? Well, I can be an asset from another fucking motel room. I can be an asset from another state. You’ve got my number, so you can call when you need an asset. So, tell me why I’m _here_!”

“I was tryin’ to prove that we weren’t just using each other, Y/n!” he shouts. “If I’m upset that I lost the closest thing I had to a father and I jump into bed with _you_ , that proves the exact opposite!” He reaches out and grabs my arms, pulling me against him. “No matter how much I want to drown my sorrows in you...I _can’t_...but I can’t tell you to leave, either.”

I gasp and my jaw drops. “Dean…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry about Lydia. I’m sorry about the other ones. Don’t leave.” He moves his right hand up to cup my jaw and licks his lips. “Please, don’t leave.”

And it’s so easy to stay after that. It’s hard to watch him guzzle whiskey from Bobby’s flask but he stops trying to fuck away his pain, so _that_ helps. He stops pushing me away, so that helps. Things are getting better...until Sam stops sleeping. His hallucinations of Lucifer are nonstop. He’s running on coffee and hope...until he gets committed to a psych ward and then he’s not running at all.

Dean and I are calling every hunter in our rolodexes, every hunter in Bobby’s. Nothing. Nothing that could _touch_ the crazy in Sam’s head. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers. He’s staring at his laptop screen. I take a deep breath and reach out to close the laptop before putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back to relax into the couch. “I can’t lose him, Y/n.”

“I know. You won’t. But you need to take a break. You need to take a nap and come at it with fresh eyes afterward, okay?”

“Don’t know if I can sleep,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against him.

“Yes, you can. Sam not sleeping is the problem here, right? Don’t wanna end up like him. Get some sleep.”

He nods once and closes his eyes and we just...cuddle together on the couch in this nasty old cabin. Eventually his heart rate slows, his breathing deepens, and he falls asleep...and I just watch him for a while. He looks so soft and vulnerable like this. Reminds me of Meridian. I shouldn’t have left while he was sleeping. That was a shitty move.

I’m up making coffee when Dean gets the call about a healer named Emmanuel. We drive out to Colorado and we find a demon beat us there and Dean looks like he’s gonna faint when we meet the healer. “It’s Cas,” he whispers before we walk into Emmanuel’s home. “That is Cas.”

“Your angel friend? The one who-”

“The one who broke Sam in the first damn place!” he whispers furiously, shooting a look through the doorway. “I thought he was dead!”

“Maybe it’s not so easy to kill an angel...even for a Leviathan. Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

We walk into the house as Emmanuel is untying his wife from where the demon had her bound. “Did that creature hurt you?” he asks.

“I’m okay. But, Emmanuel...they were looking for you,” she answers.

“It’s okay,” he says, taking her hand and walking over to Dean and I standing in the doorway. “I’m Emmanuel.” He offers his hand to Dean, who just looks at it for a minute, like he can’t believe that his friend doesn’t remember him.

“Dean. I’m...Dean,” he says, shaking the angel’s hand. “And this is Y/n.”

“Thank you for protecting my wife,” Emmanuel says.

“Your wife. Right,” Dean says, his eyes flicking to the woman.

“I saw his face. His _real_ face.”

“He was a demon,” I say, because obviously this ‘angel’ has no idea what the fuck is going on.

His eyes widen. “A demon walked the Earth,” he says quietly.

“ _Demons_. Whackloads of ‘em,” Dean fills in. “You don’t know about…”

“You saw the demon’s true face,” the wife says reverently before turning to us. “Emmanuel has very special gifts.”

“Yeah. I-I’ve heard that about...Emmanuel, that you can heal people up,” Dean says.

“I seem to be able to help to a certain degree,” the angel answers, looking at me. “Are you here for help with your scars, Y/n?”

My jaw drops. I hadn’t even considered… “Not me,” I whisper. We’re here for Sam. Don’t get distracted.

“My brother,” Dean says. “He’s real sick.”

Emmanuel nods and squeezes Daphne’s hand, smiling. “I’m going to go with them. It is the very least I can do, to help them after they saved you.”

“Of course. Be careful, Emmanuel.”

The angel steps closer and gives a small smile. “Please...allow me.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and a wave of warmth rolls across my body.

Dean lets out a little scoff and his jaw drops. “Damn. You…” Daphne smiles and pulls out her phone, taking a picture and showing it to me. I almost sob. It’s gone. The scar across half of my face is gone. Oh my god. I reach up to touch the place where it used to be. Smooth skin. Just...it’s my face again. “Hey, no tears,” Dean whispers.

“Sorry. Didn’t even...didn’t mean to.”

“It’s natural to be overwhelmed, Y/n. Many of the people I heal cry.”

It’s a little uncomfortable in the car with Emmanuel and Dean... _Cas_ and Dean...but I’m distracted. I’ve got a compact out and I’m staring at my face in a mirror. I keep running my fingertips across my chest. I’m so…how did I forget that I was ugly even before the scars?

A demon shows up. Meg. She’s...interesting. She’s got beef against the King of Hell and needs Dean and Castiel’s help. I don’t like her. I don’t feel comfortable with her. Demons. I hate demons.

“You’re Y/n, right?” Meg asks after a few hours of driving.

“Meg,” Dean warns from the front seat.

“What, Dean? I’m just making small talk. Trying to dispel some of the awkwardness.” Meg chuckles. “She doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t like demons.”

“Neither do I,” she says, smirking. “Demons suck.” She tilts her head and looks at me. “You’ve got a personal vendetta though, don’t you?” I roll my eyes and look away from her. “You know Marco was-”

I reach out and slam my fist into her face. Dean laughs. “Yeah, probably shouldn’t poke that bear, Meg.”

“Wow, I was just gonna say he’s a fucking traitor and he deserved to be sent back downstairs.”

“A trai--he was one of _yours_?” Dean asks, shocked, looking at Meg in the rearview mirror.

“One of Lucifer’s, yeah. Slimy little bastard switched sides as soon as Crowley took over. I’d have killed him, myself, if I’d known _you_ were still alive,” Meg says, looking at me. “He swore up and down that he took you out.”

“W-wait, what does that mean?” I ask. Why would it matter? Why would he have to swear he-

“Lilith had a plan to break the Winchesters. You were part of that,” she explains.

“That doesn’t make any sense. I hadn’t spoken to her in over a year when Marco got a hold of her.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause that matters. Lilith _did_ her research, Dean.”

“Shut up, Meg,” Dean snaps.

I look out the window, my brain trying to wrap around what that means. I come to the conclusion that it’s his hero complex. They were planning to break him by making him blame himself for my death? Or...something. I don’t know. This whole...I can’t...Marco was _sent_ to kill me?

We get to the hospital, Cas remembers who he is, goes in to save Sam, but the only way to fix the crazy is for Cas to take it on. So we leave Cas at the hospital, with the demon watching over him. Sam is apprehensive about it, but there’s not much we can do about it.

“Hey, uh, I know we just got you back, Sammy, but can you get a separate room?” Dean says when he pulls into the motel for the night.

“Yeah. I need some time to recuperate, anyway,” Sam agrees before walking toward the office.

Dean moves to the trunk and pulls out our bags. “You and me, we’re gonna order a pizza and put on some Casa Erotica...and we’re gonna ignore the bullshit, have a nice night,” he says, before turning to me. “Figure it’s been long enough, right?”

“Are you sure? I mean…”

He smiles just a bit and chuckles. "More than sure. You?"

"Okay."

Sam gets a room for himself and a room for us, both single queens, and Dean and I retreat to our own. We order a pepperoni pizza and set up Casa Erotica 10 on the 32 inch flat screen. He seems almost nervous. He's focusing on the screen, drumming his fingers against his abs, keeps stealing looks at me like he thinks I'm not seeing them.

"We _have_ done this before, remember?" I whisper as the hotel manager knocks on the door to the overly-busty businesswoman's suite.

“Yeah, but it’s different now,” he whispers back, eyes still on the screen. “Those were spontaneous and kinky. This is…”

“We don’t have to,” I say, flicking my eyes from the screen to Dean’s face and back.

“I want to.” He bites his bottom lip and looks over at me. “I wanna do this right...with neither of us using each other for anything...just us enjoying each other.”

“Then just focus on the movie, okay?” I move the pizza box off of the bed and toss it to the floor.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

By the time the brunette on the screen gets bent over the bed, the hotel manager taking her from behind, I’m squeezing my thighs together and Dean’s started shifting uncomfortably next to me. He starts running his hands down his thighs and digging his fingers into the denim. He’s discrete about wrapping his hand around his erection through his pants and pressing hard. “Want help with that?” I ask, reaching over to cover his hand with my own. He hisses and tosses his head backward into the headboard.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t bang your head, Dean. I’m not sure your brain could take it,” I joke.

“You callin’ me dumb?” he asks, rolling over on top of me, settling his hips between my thighs. He’s got a smile on those full, kissable lips and I know I’ve broken that tension in him.

“Only smart hunter I ever met was Ash,” I answer.

He smirks down at me, his eyebrow raised. “My brother’s not smart?”

“He popped Lucifer out of his Cage. I’m not saying he’s an idiot, but…” I shrug. “Not a genius.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Make me,” I counter...and he does. He kisses me, slips his tongue into my mouth. His hand grabs the back of my neck and I grab at his shoulders.

We kiss for a while, making out and grinding against each other for what seems like ages...long enough for the movie to get to the credits with the too-loud porn music. It’s the longest I’ve ever spent kissing someone...especially with clothes on. I didn’t even play this game when I was a teenager. No one wanted me as a teen...does he want me _now_?

He starts licking at my neck and earlobe and pulls my shirt off over my head. His hand skates down to where the scars used to adorn my chest and abdomen, calloused fingertips caressing the newly pristine skin. I haven’t really had a chance to look at it. I’ve felt it, but I haven’t been able to see it. “Shit,” he whispers. “Just like the first time I saw you.” I look down at the skin...the skin I haven’t seen like that since 2008. “Just like in my dreams.”

He dreams of me?

“You...dream...of _me_?”

He looks a little lost for a minute, like he didn’t mean to share that. “Y-yeah. Sometimes.” He purses his lips for a second before smirking. “More now, but...yeah. I had a few _real_ good ones before I went to Hell.” He tucks his hand behind my back and fumbles for a few moments before he unhooks my bra, tugging it off and looking down at my breasts with this...almost reverent look in his eyes. “You ever dream about me, cowgirl?”

I gasp a little at the nickname, closing my eyes as he covers my tits with his large hands. “Yes. I’ve...yes.” I open my eyes and reach out to tug on his shirt. “Please, take it off,” I say.

He smiles as he yanks the black t-shirt off over his head, then immediately leans down and starts kissing me again. I’ve never felt so happy to be kissing someone. How is it so right to be drunk on his tongue?

I’m not sure how long we kiss this time, but we roll our tongues together, grind our bodies together. Take it slow. Do it right. He’s hard as stone, I’m wet as I’ve ever been. When he pops my jeans open and tucks two fingers inside my pussy, I grab at his hair and tug lightly. He groans and pulls away. “Need to get inside you,” he whispers, tugging his pants open. I kick off my own as he gets his cock out, tossing his jeans and boxers to the carpet. I drag my eyes down his body, gorgeous green eyes to thick and muscular thighs...beautiful cock throbbing between them. Jesus. He’s so handsome.

He lays his body out over mine and cups my cheek as he kisses me. He reaches down between us and wraps a hand around his cock, rubbing the head up and down my slit a few times before setting it at my entrance and slowly pushing into me. He stretches me so perfectly.

“Baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

“Dean.” He drops his head to my shoulder as he starts thrusting slowly. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s so...nice. Just us moving together, kissing each other until we need to breathe, moving away from each other just enough to get oxygen before we can’t help ourselves and start kissing again. He flips us onto our sides and spoons me, hooking my leg backward over his hip and rocking into me again. He wraps his arms around me, groping at my breasts as he kisses my neck. I have nothing to busy my mouth with so I can’t hold back the expletives. “Fuck, Dean. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Just like that, Y/n. Fuck, baby. So good.” His lips went back to my neck and my hand went down to rub at my clit. “Fuck, I love when you clench like that.”

He reaches up and turns my head so he can kiss me again and I rub harder at my clit. He moves harder, a little faster, a bit more frantic as we approach our end. “It’s so good. Please, Dean, fuck!”

“I’m almost...I’m gonna cum.” He thrusts a few more times before he pulls out and cums all over the sheet, his cock throbbing against my inner thigh as he shoots his load. “Did you-?” I shake my head. “Oh, can’t have that,” he says before flipping me onto my back and burying his face between my thighs.

Oh, God, he’s so good at that. Just enough teeth, just enough suction, the perfect amount of attention to my clit. I bury my hands in his hair, tug at it as he pushes me closer to the edge. I bite my hand to keep from screaming as I cum. He sits up, smiling and licking his lips. “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.”

I would blush and act shy but I’m too worn out. “You made a mess,” I say, gesturing at the cum on the sheets.

“You’ve slept in worse,” he says, rolling me over to lie on the other side of the bed.

“How would you know?” I ask. He’s right, but still.

“Well, one--you’ve been a hunter since you were, what, sixteen? No way you haven’t had to squat in at least one bug-infested rundown.” He pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of my head. “And B--you _know_ I know you passed out in Ash’s bed, right?”

“I didn’t sleep with him. I just... _slept_...in his bed.” I look up into his eyes. “I had a bad hunt, drank too much...back then I didn’t drink as much as I do now.”

“Yeah, but you know what, and _who_ , Ash did in that bed. So, back to the point...you’ve slept in worse.”

I smile and look away. “Yeah. You’re right.” I cuddle closer to him and close my eyes. He falls asleep pretty easily, but my brain won’t let me. My brain won’t stop thinking about the psychic whose card is in my wallet, the demon back at the hospital with Castiel who said my narrowly-avoided death was part of a plot to break Dean, the man beside me who said he’s dreamed of me, who wants to prove we aren’t just using each other.

Who wants to prove he likes me. Is it within _any_ realm of possibility that he cares about me? That he...feels the same way I do? How could he, though? How could this perfect man care for this mess?


End file.
